For weeks, the teenage boy across the street flashed S.O.S. in Morse code from his bedroom window. I'm a former Marine, so I told him to quit playing around. The night he changed the message to "WE NEED YOUR HELP," I realized the boy had been desperately trying to reach out all along.
My name is Harold. I'm a former Marine, though these days my battles are mostly fought with my own knees.
I'd been living a quiet life in a small house for years, but that all changed when I got new neighbors.
They moved into the house across the road one Saturday morning in June, a couple in their 40s with a teenage son and a young daughter. They looked like a picture-perfect family, but looks can be deceiving.
All changed when I got new neighbors.
***
A day later, the whole lot of them marched across the road to introduce themselves.
"Good afternoon!" The man offered his hand the moment I opened the door. "We're new in town and wanted to introduce ourselves. I'm David, this is my wife, Sarah, and our kids are Leo and Mia."
I shook his hand. "I'm Harold."
"It's very nice to meet you." Sarah held out a cherry pie.
Behind them, Leo, the teenage son, stood with his chin tucked, hands anchored deep in his pockets. Mia smiled and waved at me.
